


Grave Mistake

by RachelisTheWendyBird



Series: In the Life of Severus Snape [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, The Prophecy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 07:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelisTheWendyBird/pseuds/RachelisTheWendyBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Severus Snape learns the consequences of his actions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grave Mistake

It was the first cold evening since the start of the summer. The sky was clear, the moon was full, the wind was chilly, and autumn was definitely on its way. Severus Snape sat alone in the dark living room of his house on Spinner’s End. The room was small and dank, with a feeling of being seldom occupied. Every wall was covered in bookshelves crammed with myriad brown and black leather-bound books. The only light came from a few flickering candles. Candles that, peculiarly enough, were giving off a faint smell of cinnamon.

Severus had a book open on his lap, but he wasn’t taking in any of the words describing brutal and gruesome spells. It wasn’t enough to hold his attention at the moment. It was now almost a week since his last mission for the Dark Lord, and Severus hated it when he was confined to his old house. He longed for his Dark Mark to burn, to be summoned and sent off on some dangerous and life-threatening task. Anything that would keep him from dwelling on the darkness that was forever churning inside his mind, behind his carefully constructed wall. He reached, almost absentmindedly, into his robes and pulled out his wand. He rolled it between his fingers, stroking it. Severus had always been very happy with his wand of ebony and phoenix feather; it was quite powerful, and always served him well. If only he had cause to use it now.

“It’s been almost a week!” Severus muttered to himself, staring down at his left forearm as he did so, as though he expected the Dark Lord to hear him through his Dark Mark. Why did the Dark Lord make him wait? Was he not one of the most knowledgeable of the dark arts amongst the Death Eaters? It was what they had valued him for at school. But, he supposed, the Dark Lord knew what he was doing. The Dark Lord would summon him when he was required. He regretfully stowed his wand back beneath his robes.

Severus returned his attention to his book. The current page depicted a vivid illustration of a particularly nasty spell, which would cause the victim’s skin to peel away like a snake’s. Honestly, sometimes he had to wonder at the creative cruelty of others. He was reaching over to turn the page when it happened:

Out of nowhere the mark burned as though it had caught fire. The book thudded to the floor as Severus leapt to his feat, clutching his left forearm tightly in his right hand. He stared at it; the normally scarlet snake-and-skull tattoo had turned jet-black. A manic smile twisted his lips; the Dark Lord was summoning him at last. Without a moment's hesitation he turned on the spot, disapparating in a whirl of black robes.

•••

When Severus reappeared, he was standing in the middle of a rather unremarkable room. It was dark, the only source of light being the small fire lit in the marble fireplace. Next to the wall to his left sat a cracked, dusty mirror. On his right, a grimy window looked out over a gloomy moor. And sanding by the fireplace, gazing into the flames, was the Dark Lord.

“Severus,” hissed a high, cold voice.

“My lord,” Severus replied softly, bowing his head.

The Dark Lord said nothing for a moment, then turned around to face Severus. His red eyes gleamed in the firelight. As those red eyes met Severus’ black ones, he felt the familiar searching sensation that always came with locking eyes with the Dark Lord. But he did not recoil as he had seen so many others do when fixed with that stare. He had his wall and his wall was strong. It kept every secret, the ever-present darkness, guarded from the Dark Lord’s searching stare. Sometimes, Severus wondered if the Dark Lord suspected the wall was there. But he felt he had done an excellent job in disguising his wall as detachment, contempt, and heartlessness. And in any case, the Dark Lord had never tried to force his way through it. So for now, his secrets remained safe.

“You have been impatient for me to call upon you,” the Dark Lord said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Always so eager to do your duty. You are one of the few of who are. So many of the others are afraid. I can see it in their eyes. They dread being summoned. They tremble before me and blanch at the prospect of what they are asked to do. But not you, Severus, never you. It is a quality Lord Voldemort prizes highly amongst his Death Eaters.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Severus replied, bowing his head again. “What is it you would ask of me this evening?”

“Do you recall the information you confided to me a few weeks ago?”

“The prophecy, my lord?” Severus asked.

“Yes, the prophecy,” the Dark Lords confirmed with a hiss.

“I could never forget it, my lord. Even now I recall every word I heard with perfect clarity. I only regret I wasn’t able to hear it in its entirety.”

“Yes, but I’m sure it is of little consequence. Either way, the information was invaluable to me. I am, deeply indebted to you for sharing it with me, Severus.”

“My lord knows I only live to serve him,” Severus replied, with yet another bow of the head.

“And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Severus replied. “And, might I ask,” he continued, his voice slightly apologetic, “forgive me, might I ask what it was you summoned me for?”

The Dark Lord’s lipless mouth curled into a smile. “Patience, Severus, I am getting to that. I assure you, you and my most trusted Death Eaters will be working diligently very soon.”

“On what, my Lord?” Severus asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“Something top-secret,” the Dark Lord added tantalizingly.

“Is this something to do with the prophecy, my Lord?” Severus said curiously.

“Yes,” the Dark Lord hissed. He looked away then, out of the window to the gloomy moor beyond. Severus immediately felt the feeling of being searched fall away. And, as much as he would like to deny it, he was relieved. 

“It will please you to know that I have found the one to whom the prophecy refers,” the Dark Lord continued, still gazing out of the window.

“That—that is wonderful news, my Lord!” Severus exclaimed.

The Dark Lord nodded, moving back towards the fireplace. “I have be searching tirelessly over these past few weeks. And in the end, I found two that fit the prophecy’s description. Two boys were born at the end of last July, with parents who have thrice defied me. Two exceptionally brave and talented couples, all of them members of the Order of the Phoenix. How was I to choose? How could I possibly know which child was born with the power to vanquish me, something that I thought was impossible? In the end, I decided to choose the one who was most like me.”

The Dark Lords voice was barely above a whisper at this point, and was talking more to himself that to Severus. Severus strained his ears to catch every last word. He was intrigued; what could the Dark Lord have seen of himself in a child that was barely a year old? But he did not ask.

“Yes,” the Dark Lord continued, “there was one that I saw myself in more than the other, one whose parentage was like to mine. The one that I could, as the prophecy said, mark as my equal. I believe you are familiar with Lily and James Potter?”

Severus was eternally grateful that the Dark Lord’s back was turned, as he could not stop his face from tightening, his eyes from bulging, and his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. Nor could he quickly disguise the feeling rising rapidly in his chest, a feeling he had not felt in a long time; panic.

“The Potters, my Lord?” Severus said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“You are surprised,” the Dark Lord observed, turning to face him again. Thankfully, Severus had managed to force the panic back behind his wall, filling his mind with the detachment it usually possessed just in time. 

“I have to admit I am,” Severus responded, his voice emotionless. “Are you quite sure the prophecy refers to them?”

“It refers to their son,” the Dark Lord answered. “Of that, I am quite certain.”

“So what is there for us to do? Me and the other Death Eaters, I mean,” Severus asked.

“We will have to find them,” the Dark Lord answered. “Yes, they will be difficult to find, I am sure. They are members of the Order of the Phoenix, after all. We have managed to track down some of them, but it was no easy task. And as if that weren’t enough, the Potters are bound to have extra protection.”

“You…you think so, my Lord?” Severus wished the Dark Lord would look away again. He was practically trembling with the effort of keeping his panic under control, and it kept being punctuated by stabs of horror and guilt.

“Oh yes, I’m certain there will be. After all, Dumbledore knows you overheard the prophecy. He is not a fool. He would have known you would repeat it to me. He would have worked as tirelessly as I have to find the one to whom the prophecy refers. Whether he has, I cannot say. But there is no doubt he will. And he will protect them with everything he has.”

Severus could no longer stand this blind panic. He had to say what was on his mind, find out if all this meant what he feared it did. 

“My Lord,” he said cautiously, careful to keep any emotion out of his voice, “What is it that you plan to do when you find them?”

“I thought that would have been obvious, Severus,” the Dark Lord replied, turning back to the fire. “The boy is a threat to me, and all threats to Lord Voldemort must be eradicated. I intend to kill him, and it seems only fitting that his mother and father join him.”

Severus had known that this would be the answer, yet that did not lessen the blow that was like being struck in the chest by an iron fist. He screwed up his face against the onslaught of feelings that were filling his mind and his heart; panic, fear, anger, guilt, despair, hopelessness, desperation, self-loathing, and remorse, terrible remorse; all were storming relentlessly away inside him, demanding to be felt, to be expressed. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to cry aloud. He clutched his hands to his chest, cringing against the inner tumult, trying desperately to force all the feelings back behind his wall. But his wall, so carefully constructed, was beginning to crack.

The Dark Lord was speaking again, and it seemed to Severus that the words came from a long way away. “You and some of my other most trusted Death Eaters will help me find where the Potters are hiding, what kind of protection they have, and who might be persuaded to treachery.” At this, the Dark Lord turned around to face his servant.

Severus was ready. He had pulled himself together just in time. He now stood as straight and still as he had before, his face smooth and dethatched, and his roiling emotions concealed behind his wall. But it was a delicate state; there were still cracks in his wall, which threatened to crumble at any moment. As long as her name was not spoken aloud, as long as Severus forbade himself from dwelling on her face, as long as he kept himself from remembering, he would be able to hold on.

“I will not fail in this,” the Dark Lord asserted, his gleaming red eyes boring into Severus. 

But the Dark Lord saw nothing unusual in his servant’s eyes. Severus’ face was as smooth as his Death Eater mask, and draped around it were his usual feelings of detachment, contempt, and heartlessness. On the inside, he was screaming.

“You will be of particular use in this venture, Severus,” The Dark Lord continued. “You are quite adept at retrieving the most well-desired and well-protected information.”

Severus merely nodded again. He did not trust himself to speak. Even as he stood there, the horrified screaming inside him began to form into intelligible words; _this was your doing…you did this…you…this is all on you_.

“I have high hopes that this will be done with quickly,” the Dark stated. “After all, you’ve never failed me before.

It was all too much. Severus had to say something, do something, to ensure her survival. It was all that mattered; he didn’t care about how selfish it was. But he would have to phrase the request perfectly; one slip of the tongue, if for one moment the Dark Lord suspected something, all was lost.

“My Lord,” he began cautiously, weighing every word, “may I make a small request?”

The Dark Lord stared at him, searching his face for some indication of what this might be about, but Severus allowed no window. “Yes?” he asked, sounding curious.

“The girl,” Severus continued, “it would be a pity, such a waste, for her to die too. Could you not spare her?”

The Dark Lord looked confused. He was searching Severus’ face again, looking for an answer. Severus brought some feelings to the surface, ones that the Dark Lord could understand; lust, desire, and greed.

“You…want the girl?” the Dark Lord presumed.

“I desire her, yes,” Severus agreed.

The Dark Lord considered him for a moment, and then turned to stare into the fire once more. “Very well, Severus,” he consented. “I will do what you ask. She shall be your reward.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Severus replied, with a final bow of his head.

“Now go,” the Dark Lord said, with a gesture of dismissal. “Return to your house and wait there for further instruction. I must make the necessary preparations.”

Severus did not need telling twice. Immediately he turned on the spot, vanishing into the crushing darkness.

•••

With a crack Severus reappeared in his dank living room. As though in a trance, he walked over to the narrow staircase and climbed the stairs up to the second floor. He barely noticed where he was going, but his feet took him to his old bedroom. It was no different from when he had lived there as a child. He stood for a moment in the center of the room before collapsing onto the floor. All the feelings he had been repressing in the presence of the Dark Lord made themselves known in a long howl of misery. And her face, her beautiful, forbidden face rose from where it had been buried in his mind and swam before him, as vivid and clear as though she actually stood in front of him; Lily.

Severus crouched on the dusty rug that covered the decrepit floorboards, his breath coming in gasps as the panic and anger flowed through him, coursing through his veins like fire. He had not felt this intensely in a long time.

After a short time the hot panic and anger wore off, only to be replaced by a cold dread that crept slowly through his being. His Lily, his lovely Lily, was in mortal danger. But that wasn’t the worst part of it. Lily was an auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, fighting against the Dark Lord. She was always in some sort of danger. No, the worst part was that she was now an essential part of the Dark Lord’s most secret and important mission, one that he would carry out at all costs. The Dark Lord saw her son as the greatest threat against him, and she was very much in his way. And it was he, Severus, that had driven the Dark Lord to her. 

The guilt and remorse Severus felt was unbearable. He rocked back and forth on the rug; tears falling thick and fast down his hooked nose. Never before had he felt such intense loathing for himself. Lily was all he had ever loved, everything he had ever wanted. His entire world was centered on her, the brilliant sun to his dark, bare, and empty planet. And he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. He hadn’t known, he had no way of knowing to whom the prophecy referred, but that did not lessen his guilt. I did not change the fact that Lily was now in the worst danger imaginable. And all Severus had been able to do for her was ask the Dark Lord to spare her life as a favor, a promise which he could not trust the Dark Lord to keep, while condemning the rest of her family to their brutal deaths. She would be disgusted if she knew. 

As if all that weren’t enough, this threat to Lily’s life seemed to have shocked Severus out of the numb abyss of detachment in which he had been living since becoming a Death Eater. Memories that he had buried deep within him were now being violently woken to life. Every hurt he had suffered while at school, every feeling about Lily, and every unpleasant childhood memory felt new and fresh.

But there was more. Being shocked out of his numb and dethatched state was forcing him to acknowledge and examine everything he had done since becoming a Death Eater. He felt strong remorse for every cruel act he had committed; all those murders and torturing’s of muggles and wizards alike. He was horrified at all the things he had done. And then came the realization that sparked fear for his own sake; he could not bear to be a Death Eater any longer. But with the Dark Lord, it was a lifetime of servitude or death. 

Severus raised his head to look at the small writing desk that sat in one corner of his old bedroom, and his eyes fell on a single, pure white lily. It was the everlasting lily he had giving to Lily for Christmas during fifth year, which she had returned to him after that fateful day under the beech tree and the end of that same year. As he stared at it, the answer to his woes became clear; Dumbledore.

Why hadn’t he thought of it before? If anyone could stop the Dark Lord in his most passionate quest, it was Dumbledore. Severus would go to Dumbledore and tell him of the Dark Lord's plans and who he though the prophecy referred to. But would Dumbledore consent to meet with him? Surely he would, if he explained that the information he had could help to save a life. Dumbledore just had to protect Lily; Severus would get on his knees and beg if he must, just as long as Lily was safe and protected. And maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore would have some brilliant idea to help Severus get out of being a Death Eater as well.

Severus stood slowly, and leaned heavily onto the writing desk. He lowered his face until it was quite close to the white lily, and then spoke softly to it.  
“Lily…I’m so sorry, Lily. This is all my fault. But I won’t let the Dark Lord hurt you. I love you, and I will always protect you…always.”

And with that, Severus stood, wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks and eyes, and disapperated.


End file.
